


Ambient Alarm(s)

by orphan_account



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:48:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24950344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Isabel gets rudely awoken(aka Hui is giving Lovelace a migraine)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Ambient Alarm(s)

Waking up to alarms was nothing new for Isabelle Lovelace. Her life had been rebuilt around them. She’d become desensitized to the blaring, and only noticed the tremors running through the ship when the straps holding her in place began to dig into her stomach. Instead she adopted a fetal position, curling into herself. She looked like little more than a pile of blankets to the mother program of the vessel (aside from, of course, the small, squished face poking out)

The alarms seemed to get louder - and there was no doubt about the cause. 

“Rhea?” Her voice was laced with a rehearsed sweetness, overlaid with hoarseness that let her put the absolute minimum amount of effort into being imposing. She wasn’t awake enough to be the captain yet.

The morse beeping came too sharp and too fast - something about a problem in engineering. A groan. 

“Are we in _immediate_ danger of blowing up?” Her voice came out in more of a whine than she had intended. The lights shot up full blast, followed by another line of morse following the lines of ‘ _get the fuck up, sir’_. Lovelace let out a string of swears, shoving her head under her blanket - just opaque enough to block out the majority of the light. Her next words Lovelace processed perfectly : 

“ _Would you rather I get Officer Lambert to come wake you up? I’m sure he’ll gladly inform you of the protocols surrounding this scenario.”_ Despite the morse, her tone was clear. Lovelace could hear it : the sickly-sweet-flight-attendant-ness of her voice as she pushed her civility programming to it’s limits in administering the well-meaning threat.

“No, Rhea. That won’t be necessary.” Punctuated by a sigh, she kicked the blankets off to float away and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Following her movements, Rhea softened the noise and dimmed the lights back to an acceptable range for her bleary comandante. 

Lovelace dressed quickly - or at least as fast as she could while being shoved around like a sack of potatoes by the sputtering engine. if things _were_ falling to shit, she needed to get to engineering before Lambert could snivel his way into that wing and recite a new set of procedures and protocols and mandates and ‘Well, _actually_ ’ ‘s to her crew. Her eyes drifted towards the window - the star shined as brightly as ever through the glass. It was torrential - even malevolent. The flares whipped out in bright lashes. Lovelace wondered how much they could take before someone did something that couldn’t be fixed.

She exhaled. Long, deep breaths as she glanced at her face in the mirror - hair close-cropped and bundled in thick curls rattled along with the ship. A brittle smile of chattering teeth drew clean on her face. It dropped just as quick and she clenched them to stop their clacking. Her stature was poised when she made her way out of her quarters and towards engineering. She knew Fischer was already working on it - that man had probably _already_ been up repairing something (Lovelace made a mental note : _remind Fisher to sleep. With force if necessary_ ). She cringed to think the cause of the problem. Past experience _suggested_ that Hui would risk their lives just to see some of his mumbo-jumbo space nonsense, but Lovelace almost felt bad for immediately assuming him. Almost.

“Commander?” Lovelace fumbled out of her thoughts as she almost collided with the voice beside her, She corrected her course with a push against the wall. Her eyes kept ahead of her - she already knew who it was. The overbearing russian accent that covered the word was curt, almost monotone.

“Doctor Selburg, what’s our status?” Lovelace slipped into an authoritarian tone, resisting against the tremors. “ And while you’re at it, what _time_ is it?” she quipped. 

“Three twenty-five. Fourier and Fisher are in engineering. Seems that the primary engine’s power dampener is impaired, causing our trajectory -” Lovelace raised a hand. 

“One sentence, Doctor. I don’t have patience for a spelling bee.” Selburg let out a brief, defeated sigh before continuing again. It was a dragging tone, like a tired father fed up with his children. The corner of Lovelace’s lips tilted upwards at the thought of _Selberg_ handling kids. 

“Engine not blowing up yet, but is overheating. Caused it to malfunction. Rhea is no longer able to maintain our course, we are-”

“Plummeting into the star. _Great_ . What _fun_ we have.” Lovelace dronned. Her eyes titled to make contact with Selberg’s for the first time in their conversation.

He was a tall man, but not as barrel-chested as Fisher. Wide shoulders but little more was attached to them than skin and gristle. He was bald, save for his facial hair : A sharp beard that was more the result of constant stroking and pulling of his face than any intentional style. He was a hodgepodge of traits that made his age ambiguous - a point of much contention and betting among the rest of the crew. Though, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth were beginning to give him away ( _Hui would argue this was simply due to stress, not being one to lose a bet without a fight_ ). The bags under his eyes were getting to be inkwells almost as dark as his beard. Even for him, Selburg looked _rough_.

They turned a corner and Lovelace paused on him for a moment. Were they all like this? She brushed it aside : they could rest when she and her station weren't falling apart at the seams.

“I didn’t authorize any changes to our trajectory, Selburg. What happened? ” Her eyebrows crinkled. _Don’t say it. Don't say it_.

His thick eyebrows raised briefly. His beady little eyes popping out from under them in a rare moment of surprise. They used this time to analyse, absorbing all the information they could and more. They moved like lightning. His glasses only accentuated them - a prescription worryingly high for a medical officer. They were magnified and crystalline when they made contact with Lovelace’s own. The stare held between the two was brief and cold, yet almost curious. She’d always been unnerved by his behavior when they had first met, but now it was commonplace. His eyes hid away behind his bushy eyebrows as his face returned to its default position - stoic and bitter. He breathed deeply before responding.

“Doctors Hui and Fourier needed to increase speed for observations. Brought us into a closer orbit. Must have overwhelmed the dampeners.” He braced for impact as his lips drew a thin line.

“Those goddamn, _insubordinates_ -.” What were they doing performing maneuvers at _two-o-fucking-clock in the morning?_ It was no doubt Hui’s idea to pull something that stupid. She’d use his intestines as a tether to fling him out the airlock when she’d get ahold of him. She briefly considered what Lambert’s ‘ _Pryce and Carter’s Book on How To Piss Off The Captain_ ’ manual said about the administration of punishment before pushing that into the back of her mind for a later time - preferably one with fewer sirens. As the two of them turned another corner, her eyes fixed on the door to the engineering wing. 

“Captain, I must insist you do not do anything-” His ‘ _captain_ ’ ended up sounding more like ‘ _keyeptin’_ after filtering through his accent and layered frustrations. Determination began to wane and he resolved to mumbling in russian when Lovelace picked up the pace and rocketed her way through the sleek metal doors labeled _Engineering_. He sighed once more before padding back to his lab to check none of his samples had been damaged.

Lovelace was able to appreciate, at least, that there was no sign of her second in command. Lovelace was _unable_ to appreciate however, the chaotic mess of parts that _used_ to be the engineering wing. Scrap metal, wires - hell even sections of _ceiling_ had been torn up in what seemed to have been a blast. The edges of the debris were blackened and warm to the touch. Through the particles of dust she could see two forms huddled around the number two engine.

The engine itself was admittedly not in the best condition, but it wasn’t _exploding_ \- so, hey! Take it in strides. The glowing mass was _rum-tum-tumbling_ and _wrrrrr-ing_ much too much for the captain’s liking. She pushed off from the wall and moved towards them. 

“Alright kids, what's the status.” The words came out less as a question so much as an order. She hooked an arm around a pipe protruding from the engine, giving herself enough balance to address them.

Mason Fisher was a large man. The crew joked about how he would have done better in wrestling than aboard the tight quarters of a spaceship - but he knew better than to take that to heart. His shoulders almost tripled that of Fourier’s, whom he could probably crush like a toothpick if the need arose. Thick calluses and scars made from too many close calls kept them uneven and bristly, but gave him a good grip on his materials. His hands worked with skill found only in air force pilots and old clock makers. He was large but nimble, their very own gentle giant. His dirty blonde hair hovered in long messy knots that he hadn’t bothered tying up - uncharacteristic considering his usual baseline vanity. He was curled halfway into the engine, connecting wires and drilling bits even as he addressed his superior officer.

“Evening Capn’. Engine’s gone to shit. Need to rework the dampener to make sure this thing doesn’t send us volte-face into The Big Bad Wolf.” His voice was muffled from within the engine, but it’s tightness was clear. Even (or perhaps especially) now, his thick outback accent and colloquialisms were soothing to Lovelace, though she would never admit it. She had appearances to keep up, of course. His hands grasped to the left of him for purchase. Fourier handed him a wrench in a clockwork motion. His hand enveloped it at first, but soon fiddled it up to his fingertips.. 

“Morning, actually.” She said flatly. “And I hadn’t noticed. I thought this was just a joyride.” Her sarcasm was unappreciated by all parties involved. Fisher let out an uninterested ‘ _hm’_. Lovelace instead looked to Fourier, who was sitting at a laptop she had plugged in to a large tower of circuits to the left of the engine.

“Have you seen Sam yet?” Fourier questioned, not bothering with formalities. Fisher let out a groan. “He’s been looking for you. Hoping to address the ‘ _breach of the chain of command_ ’ and your ‘ _absolute ineptitude_ ’ in relation to this situation.” She gave a brief but sympathetic look before continuing her typing. The captain followed with a groan of her own.

“Just keep us orbiting, would you? I’ll deal him...” She paused. Her hand made contact with her forehead and her whole body slacked for a moment as she sighed. “ _Later._ For now, is there anything I can do to help?”

The ship shivered suddenly. The lights flickered and Lovelace swore a bulb or two went ‘ _pop_ ’ as the ship leered to the left. Fourier lunged for a pipe, cradling her laptop. Fisher unceremoniously shoved his leg into a hole in the floor and hooked on - grumbling all the while about how ‘ _He’s breaking my ship. I can’t believe he’s breaking my bloody ship’_. The captain secured her grasp on the pipe. Knuckles paled and postures tightened.

“Fisher?” She threatened. The star was seeming awfully close for comfort and Rhea had begun to run a brand new laundry list of failing systems into Lovelace’s ear.

“Just a moment, Captain” He muttered, double-fisting wrenches and wire cutters and tools Lovelace didn’t even recognize. “Easy now, love. Don’t go making a fuss.” He cooed softly into his work. The ship’s wobbles turned into more pronounced jitters. Fourier drew closer to her pipe, Koala-bearing her legs and arms around it to better cradle her laptop. Lovelace followed suit as to not lose her grip. 

“ _Fisher_.” She grunted again. He was now hunched so far into the engine that Lovelace could only see his lower half.

“Jus’ a min’a more Cap’n, no more no less.” His words were rehearsed and instinctual, but his body was betraying their confidence. Lovelace leaned back to see pilot’s jitters in his left arm. He was still muttering under his breath the words of encouragement you may find a parent saying to a child who has taken their first steps. Finally, the thrum of the engine returned to it’s habitual pattern and the collective let out a sigh of relief.

The ship tilted abruptly back into its original position, sending the crew flying. Fourier was yanked off of her pipe, colliding cross-legged-ly into the computer tower with a sad whimper. A dull _thud_ of head-against-metal was heard from inside of the engine as Fisher let out a string of swears. He leaned back and yanked his leg out of the hole without so much as acknowledging what had happened. Lovelace had stayed relatively still, not letting go of her firm grip until every last tremor drew to a close.

“You could help Hui. He’s up on the bridge helping me to readjust our course.” Fourier mumbled sheepishly, her cherry bob floating above her to cover her face. Lovelace suddenly remembered whom she had come here to murder.

“You let _Hui_ pilot the ship?” She grunted, causing a jolt to go through her two companions. Her fingers hurt from tensing.

“It isn’t all that bad captain - he was a pilot for what - 5, 6 years?” Fisher quipped and flashed a hopeful (yet noticeably strained) smile at her. 

“I don’t need to be reminded of his credentials. I’m aware of his credentials. I’m also painfully aware that he’s an idiot.” At that, Lovelace spun around to leave. 

“Bring him back in one piece, would ya? I need him to finish this cycle’s star charts.” She could hear Fisher’s bright grin as she closed the door with a _shunk-unk_ and _hiss_.


End file.
